


Shattered Glass

by TidalDragon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Community: HPFT, Gen, Marauders' Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-06-05 13:31:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6706309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TidalDragon/pseuds/TidalDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the first time in a long time, I can see clearly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shattered Glass

I woke up naked. Pale rays of sunshine struck my bleary eyes through holes in the tattered cloth I’d put thrown over the windows when I moved into the dingy Birmingham flat. I regretted opening them instantly. These days, I always did. My feet were two blocks of ice, jutting out from the end of my too-thin blanket and my skull felt as if it had been split in two by a spear. The small fragment of my childhood mind that still remained yearned to draw up tightly, to shrink myself into the smallest possible space where I could imagine that – no – my adult mind screamed. That’s all it would be, imagination, and imagination only ever led to disappointment.  
  
  
Instead I stood to survey the damage. Savage scoring covered the walls. There were traces of blood in some of them. There was a time that would’ve scared me – made me wonder if I’d escaped…attacked someone. Or worse. It was some wonder I hadn’t destroyed the curtains as well, but perhaps even my thoughtless, primal state I could recognize they weren’t worth the effort. I looked at my hands. Yes, there’d be plenty of healing to do in addition to the repairs.  
  
  
Using the wall to hold myself up, I traced the gouges in the wood as I moved along toward the tiny bathroom a few feet from the end of my cot. Fortunately they weren’t too deep. Merlin knew I didn’t have any galleons to spare for a fix-wizard. Truth be told I was probably down to a few spare sickles. It had been too long since I’d carried out any off-the-books missions for the Auror Office.  
  
  
I spared a glance toward the kitchen noting with growing dismay that it wasn’t merely scratched up. Cabinet doors had been torn from their hinges – an easy enough repair – but the refrigerator had multiple puncture marks and wasn’t emitting its tell-tale hum anymore. I took a step forward and felt something wet between my toes. I sighed deeply. Yes, I could see it now, a large puddle beginning beneath the destroyed machine. This was beyond me. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d had to abandon shelter since I’d run out of Wolfsbane. I’d screwed up the sub-premises containment charms again. If there was anything to be grateful for it was that the ones I’d cast on the exterior of my small unit had held.  
  
  
Before I could plot my next move though, I needed a clear head and the stabbing pain in my head wouldn’t help me get there. What I needed were pain potions, but on compared to wartime prices from even an amateur apothecary, muggle medicine was more affordable. That was in the bathroom.  
  
  
Aside from the shattered tiles and shredded shower curtain I’d been able to make out when I first woke up, I could see the toilet was broken too, nearly torn from the wall as I’d searched for…something…in my mindlessness. Stooping low, I picked up the small plastic bottle off the floor. I snorted lightly. It was as close to a laugh as I could manage. I looked around again to confirm it. Yes, somehow, despite all the destruction, this little bottle had survived completely intact. Popping it open, I grabbed two pills and tossed them in mouth. Now for water. Turning on the badly bent tap, I cupped my hands together, brought them to my mouth and swallowed. Though I knew it was an illusion, my head instantly felt a little better.  
  
  
Shutting off the water, I slumped to the floor. Hogwarts had been one of the few overwhelmingly positive experiences in my life, but over my seven years there it had imprinted me with its own illusions. I wasn’t a monster. I deserved friendship. I could live a normal life.  
  
  
No.  
  
  
Outside those walls, in the middle of a war, I was what I always had been – a pariah. True, James and Sirius had both tried to take me in when they’d managed to track me down at my last place, but they didn’t understand. How could I possibly accept? Lily was pregnant now. If anything happened I’d never have been able to forgive myself. Sirius? Well, I wasn’t his burden either. Not anymore.  
  
  
On the floor beside me I saw several fragments of the mirror that used to hang over the sink. Though parts of what I objectively knew to be my face reflected back at me, it was as if I was seeing another person. Hadn’t I been brighter before? Looked younger, despite my condition? Now it was easy to identify budding wrinkles across my face. Turning slightly, a few gray hairs came into view.  
  
  
My mind wandered back to another broken one – the one I’d shattered long ago in my father’s shed. I’d been seven and so smaller and not so dangerous. Nevertheless they’d put me there…for everyone’s security. Despite the destruction I’d regularly wrought of the objects within, one morning after a transformation, my father had hung a full length mirror on one of the walls.  
  
  
“What are you doing?”  
  
  
He stroked my face. “Giving you a gift my son.”  
  
  
“It’s mum’s.”  
  
  
“She wants you to have it.”  
  
  
“I don’t want it. I’ll just see…”  
  
  
“The bites and bruises?”  
  
  
My lips quivered. “Yes…”  
  
  
“But you’ll see your face, Remus. You’ll see you’re human.”  
  
  
I sniffed. “I’m just sick and weak…that’s what everyone says.”  
  
  
“They’re wrong. You,” he knelt down and pointed at my chest, “are stronger than all of them.”  
  
  
Shaking my head, I looked away.  
  
  
“Look. For me.”  
  
  
Obliging him, like always, I turned.  
  
  
“A mirror is just a tool. Son…I know you may not understand, but…what you see in it is up to you.”  
  
  
“That’s stupid,” I spat. “It shows your reflection.”  
  
  
He nodded. “It does. But whether you choose to see the best or worst of yourself in it…that’s in your control.”  
  
  
I stared at myself again through the fragments. The sunken eyes, the gaunt face. Was this my truth?  
  
  
No.  
  
  
Dragging myself to my only other piece of furniture, a crooked, well-scarred nightstand, I opened the door and withdrew my wand. I took the few steps needed and tore down the first of my pathetic curtains, bathing myself in the early morning light. Swiftly, before I could second-guess myself, I pushed it open and calling memories of school to mind, cast my patronus, managing a smile as the wolf sprinted off to its destination.  
  
  
I sat back down on the cot and reached under the pillow, grasping the folded parchment that had survived last night’s events undisturbed under there. I stared into the light. I was a man. A _man_. Who had been entrusted with a very crucial task by none other than the leader of the Order of the Phoenix. Sirius be damned, I knew where my loyalty lied. I stroked the letter with a finger and nodded, remembering fondly the opening line.  
  
 _  
We have a mission for you._  
  
  
Yes.  
  
  
I was a man.  
  
  
And I would _never_ stop fighting.  
  
  
 **A/N: This story is a gift for the incomparable Tanya, also known to many as WriteYourHeartOut. May she always remember her own strength and see the best in the mirror each and every day. Thank you for being a true friend.**


End file.
